Goddess of Tickling
by GreenHat24
Summary: Kyle and Bebe were getting wasted in the busty blonde's living room on a dangerously icy night. Her birthday party had been cancelled due to the weather, which left her and her boyfriend craving some excitement. Luckily, there were some handy tools laying around to help them with this. Warning: Sexual content. Kybe.


**A/N**

 **Hey, guys! I'm stepping** _ **way**_ **out of my comfort zone with this one. Although, I'll admit, I'm actually pretty excited about it. I've never even** _ **thought**_ **about writing smut on this account, yet here I am, doing just that. This idea isn't mine, it was thought of and requested by Alloshonen. I was quite relieved to find a request sent to me as I needed something other than zombies to focus my attention on. It takes place a few months after my first oneshot,** _ **Spanish Class**_ **. I figured it worked out well as Bebe's birthday is hinted at the end and Kyle actually makes a subtle sex joke so it all ties together. I've read over it once again and I cringed a bit, knowing that I could have done** _ **much**_ **better. Anyway, on with the story, enjoy!**

* * *

Kyle and Bebe were what you would call a "spontaneous couple". They didn't shy away from trying out new techniques in bed, whether it was using toys, role play, or new positions. A few of their personal favourites would be the Triple Lindy, the London Bridge, the Ballerina, and, of course, the Lemon Squeezer. But that was only to name a few. They also weren't afraid to share their sexual activities with their friends, as said friends had just as much action to add to the conversation. Well, Stan, Wendy, and Kenny did. Cartman and Butters, on the other hand, were about as sexually involved as a priest that celebrated Mass every Sunday morning. However, in the beginning, Kyle wasn't too keen on the whole "fuck and tell" idea. In fact, he would rather have attended his friends' weekly discussion while remaining awkwardly quiet like he used to do. Bebe was quick to shake him out of this boring behaviour by simply commenting on something she _knew_ would get him going.

* * *

 _"You know," she began. "I was talking to Token the other day, and do you know what he said?" He looked up from his maths homework and shook his head, gesturing for her to continue. She walked over to his desk and leaned against the edge, pushing out her cleavage while keeping her azure irises focused on the emerald ones in front of her. "He told me that Clyde got_ _super_ _jealous when he heard about our usual Saturday night fuck-fest."_

 _Kyle immediately smirked at the notion. "He did?"_

 _Bebe grinned. She had him now. "Yup. He even told me that Clyde said you don't deserve me and that he wants me back."_

 _The smugness vanished from Kyle's face immediately upon hearing the information she had just told him, which had hit him like a ton of bricks. Bebe had broken up with Clyde a few weeks before getting with Kyle, claiming that it just wasn't working out and that she had never really liked him as much as she had liked the lanky redhead. Luckily for her, Kyle got his act together and asked her out. It made sense as they always had to hang out together because of Stan and Wendy forcing them to go to the mall with them every other damn weekend. However, he still tended to get jealous over Bebe and Clyde, whether it was because of them being partners for projects or having to watch them sit beside each other in English every day, regardless of how many times she had insisted that it was over between them. You see, Kyle and Clyde had never really got along. Their cliques were constantly fighting, and those two just happened to have it out for each other. The Jew took no notice of Craig, merely tolerated Token as they were both key elements of the school basketball team, and simply found Tweek annoying. However, Clyde was a whole new level of douche bag, with his stupid haircut, retarded smirk, and that fucking football jacket he insisted on wearing all the time. Or maybe it was just because he went out with his girlfriend. Nah, that_ _definitely_ _wasn't it_ _._

 _"Well, he can go fuck himself," the irritated boy grunted._

 _"I know a way of putting him in his place," the blonde suggested nonchalantly. "Let him know more of what we get up to behind closed doors. Make him want to take me back even more, and when he finally gets on his hands and knees and begs for me to dump you and run off with him to his basement to give him head, you shove your middle finger in his face and say 'Fuck off, Clyde. We have to go practise our reverse cowgirl some more'."_

 _Ever since then, Kyle had no problem gushing out all of the details of his and Bebe's alone time,_ _especially_ _when Clyde was within earshot. What Kyle unaware of was the fact that what Bebe had told him about the slightly chubby brunet was complete and utter bullshit. But he didn't need to know that._

* * *

That was about eight months ago. Kybe was still going strong, despite the multiple disagreements that were displayed publicly on a daily basis.

"All I'm saying is that if you have your party at a bar, random creeps will be there and they'll be trying to get up you and your friends' skirts," Kyle explained as he chewed on a fry.

Bebe huffed, crossing her arms over her prominent chest. "Well, where the fuck can I have it then? It's in two weeks, Kyle!"

Bebe's birthday was coming up and she wanted to have her party at a local bar in South Park. It was really high class, with sleek interior design and good looking employees. Kyle, however, wasn't having any of it. He would have preferred her to have the party at her house to avoid the curious glares of random bar goers while they wondered if everyone attending the party was of the legal drinking age, which they most certainly weren't.

"Bebe, calm down," Wendy said while sitting down at their group's usual cafeteria table. "What's the matter?"

"This dickhead's trying to plan my birthday party, as if he's some sort of party animal who knows what people like and don't like," she stated, glaring at her boyfriend as he proceeded to eat his lunch.

He scoffed, shoving one last fry in his mouth before getting off of the bench and stomping away, presumably to go let off some steam at the basketball court. After all, who had time to listen to their girlfriend's drama? Not Kyle, that's for sure.

"Ky, wait up!" Stan called after his best friend, chasing him out of the cafeteria. Kenny took this as an invitation to devour the two meals left in plain sight. So he did. And they were _delicious._

"Babe, do you not think you're overreacting a bit?" asked Wendy as she placed her hand on the other girl's shoulder. "I mean, you're only turning seventeen and half of the people you're inviting will still only be sixteen. That's including me, Stan, and Butters. Do you honestly think the bartender's going to serve us?"

"No," she mumbled in response.

"Exactly, now go apologize to your man," she ordered, flipping her thick hair off her shoulder.

"Men don't go off sulking to their boyfriend over not getting their way," she giggled, making no indication of moving. "He's just a boy."

"The shade is real," Kenny winked. "I'm telling him you said that, by the way."

"Whatever," Bebe laughed.

"So," Wendy continued. "Are you actually going to have the party at your house?"

Bebe sighed, mindlessly swirling the plastic straw around in her cup of Fanta. "I guess I'm going to have to."

"It'll be fine," Wendy assured her. "As long as there's alcohol, everyone's happy."

"And where do you expect me to get that?" the blonde asked.

"Eric Cartman, master of fake IDs, at your service," a loud voice spoke from behind them. He sat down in front of the girls, squishing in between Kenny and Butters.

It was known around the school that Cartman was an expert at forgery. This was gold for those who needed a quick fix. However, this was _Eric Cartman_ that was being dealt with here. Despite being popular for his late night shopping trips to the liquor store, he was hated among the majority of the population of South Park. Is an explanation as to why even necessary?

"I'll need double what you're paying for the drinks," he informed. "Therefore, I get half. Capiche?"

"What the fuck do you mean, 'double'?" Bebe fumed. "I never even asked for your help. You can take your fake IDs and shove them up your fat ass for all I care!"

"Listen, hoe," he snarled, leaning across the table. "Don't act like a little sissy bitch over needing my help. I've offered you once and I won't offer you again. _Take what you can get._ "

Bebe crossed her arms and huffed, not appreciating the names he associated her with. She glared at him through squinted eyes, not quite sure what to say next. "Let me ask Kyle what _he_ thinks first," she decided to reply.

Cartman scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Trying to talk to Jew boy about money is like trying to talk to a druggie about meth. He's going to forget the issue at hand and focus his dirty Jew mind in rolling around on the stacks of bills he has hidden somewhere."

"Gee, E-Eric, that's a bit nasty to say about your friend," Butters commented, twiddling his thumbs.

"Go fuck yourself, Butters," he responded nonchalantly. "So, blondie, do we have a deal?"

"She'll give you half of what she pays for the alcohol," Wendy stated. "So, if the drinks cost seventy, you'll get thirty-five."

"I'm not fucking talking to you, hippie," the large brunet yelled.

"I'll give you half, no more, no less," Bebe agreed.

"Fine," Cartman eventually grumbled, extending his hand.

Bebe shook it, pleased about the fact that alcohol would _definitely_ be at her party. Maybe having it at her house wouldn't suck so hard after all.

* * *

Fast forward two weeks to Bebe's big day. It was about seven at night when Kyle and Bebe were chilling in her living room getting tipsy while they waited another two or so hours for the guests to arrive. The redhead was flicking through the channels on the large television in front of them with his girlfriend wrapped lovingly under his right arm, a glass of vodka and Coke in the other. He eventually got bored and left it on whatever channel was next. It was the weather forecast.

" _A dangerous snowstorm is moving in from the east, threatening to pass over the Colorado area. It is advised that everyone stay indoors and off the roads. Heavy hail and icy roads could cause major accidents. We believe the storm will last throughout the entire night, with blizzards making appearances here and there."_

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" Bebe screamed in a high pitched voice, jumping up from her comfortable position against her boyfriend's side.

Kyle winced, putting his hands against his ears in a lousy attempt to block out the constant ringing he was hearing. He already wore glasses for reading, he didn't need a hearing aid on top of that. "Dude, calm down," he begged. "You can have the party another night, okay?"

The annoyed girl shook her head, leaning back against Kyle's torso once again with her arms crossed. "This is the only weekend my parents will be gone. It could be _months_ before they finally go on another trip to Vegas."

She had a point. Her parents rarely went out on dates with each other, and when they did, it wasn't usually an overnight stay. They often opted for an hour-long dinner somewhere in town, worried about leaving their "little princess" alone in the house for too long. As well as that, Bebe's mom worked from home, which meant even _less_ time to herself. She always stayed in her bedroom, texting friends and painting her nails. It was all she _could_ do without her mother breathing down her neck. Whenever any of her friends were allowed out, she threw on her coat and left, not caring where they were going. Kyle and Wendy tried to fit her into their schedules as much as possible, but with both of their busy study timetables and both of them having to make time for Stan _as well_ as her, it didn't happen very often.

Kyle had turned the heating on a while back, which turned out to be a bad idea. Well, in the beginning it was. They were both sweating beyond belief, regardless of the heavy snowstorm occurring outside. "Kyyyyyle," she whined after about ten minutes of cuddling. "It's too hooott." She began fanning herself with her manicured hand in order to prove her point. She then grabbed hold of the bottom of her red crop top and pulled it up over her head, exposing her toned abs from cheerleading and her lace push-up bra that she only wore on special occasions. Kyle watched in amusement, amazed at how comfortable she was around him. Well, they've seen each other naked a million times, but it still counts for something. "Your turn."

"You haven't even taken off your bra yet."

"I'll take my bra off when you take your shirt off," she winked.

This was the only part the short redhead didn't like. He had never been confident about his body. Bebe knew this. The first time she had found out about his lack of self-confidence was when they had first started going out. It had been about three weeks and they felt it was about time to experiment with each other.

* * *

 _"Can I, umm," he stammered. "Can I maybe, you know, leave my shirt on?"_

 _She did a double take, looking up at him while undoing the zip on his skinny jeans and pulling them down over his ankles. "No, you most certainly can't."_

 _"…Please?" he begged, keeping his gaze on the carpeted floor of his bedroom._

 _Bebe stood up from her place on the floor, sitting beside her lugubrious boyfriend wearing nothing but his boxers and shirt. She wasn't any better as she was dressed in only her short-shorts and bra. She brushed a stray lock of curly, auburn hair behind his ear and kissed his temple._

 _"Is there anything you want to tell me?" He shook his head before placing it in his hands. "Kyle, please," she whispered soothingly. "You can tell me anything, I won't tell a soul." He sighed, slowly pulling up his top just enough so that she could see the white scar travelling down his abdomen. She gasped, reaching out and stroking her thumb gently along the lengthy mark. "What happened?" she choked out.._

 _"I had a kidney transplant in third grade," he managed to tell her, voice breaking as he held back tears._

 _She helped him lower his shirt. Once this was done, she wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him hold her waist as he sobbed quietly onto her unclothed shoulder._

* * *

Nowadays, Kyle had gotten used to displaying his body for his busty girlfriend. That didn't make him any less uncomfortable though. Once they were both shirtless, Kyle laid across the couch, allowing his now braless girlfriend to drape herself over him. He began playing with her golden hair, twisting the straightened locks around his finger and frowning as they slipped out of his loose grip. "Why didn't you leave your hair curly?"

She looked down at him and scoffed in disbelief. "Says you, Mr. 'I steal my mom's flat iron every morning'."

He chuckled, shaking his head, which caused Bebe to light up like the Fourth of July. She loved making people laugh. After all, she had made it her mission in life to start and finish multiple tickle fights with her friends and family, giving herself the title "Goddess of Tickling". Her kinky boyfriend seemed to enjoy her random acts of mischief, going as far as saying it was one of his favourite types of foreplay. Upon remembering this, Bebe put her manicured fingers to work, wiggling them down the Jew's torso. Kyle, being the ticklish fucker he was, instantly burst into laughter, kicking and shoving to try get his playful girlfriend to stop. But of course, she wasn't going to let him win that easily. She brought her fingers lower and lower until she reached the area just above his crotch and lightly moved her fingers across the slightly hardened area, earning a moan from the male beneath her. She leaned down, sucking and biting his neck. Her fingers continued to subtly rub against Kyle's boxers. He moved his head, capturing her lips with his own. She immediately stopped, savouring the new feeling against her glossed lips. Kyle took this as a chance to flip her over, him now being on top while she laid underneath him, sweat beading her flawless skin.

"Prick," she breathed out, panting after the sudden movement. He chuckled, reaching over to the coffee table on his left-hand side. He grabbed the bottle of vodka that Cartman had brought over after school, opening it hastily. He poured it in the heaving blonde's belly button, using his tongue to lick it out. She giggled, gripping his messy locks and pushing his head down further. The Jew continued to drag his tongue along her stomach, listening in awe at the moans and gasps he had caused her to make. After all, her stomach was one of her more ticklish areas. However, the lean Jew knew _exactly_ where to touch her in order to get her to moan even louder. He began trailing his tongue upwards, finally reaching her large breasts. "Kyle!" she screamed as he lightly licked her right nipple.

Kyle looked around the decorated living room, trying to find something he could use to pleasure her even further. His eyes landed on a plastic bag full of party blowers on the floor nearby, as well as some shot glasses and festive napkins. He grabbed them, almost falling off of the couch in the process. Upon regaining his balance, he ripped open the bag with his teeth and let the contents pour onto Bebe's stomach. She watched him with half lidded eyes, curious as to what her excited boyfriend had planned for her.

"We're going to play a game," he winked, placing a shot glass on her forehead and filling it with the vodka they had drank previously. He reached down, cupping her breasts in his soft hands. She shuddered at the touch. "If the drink spills, you lose," he slurred.

"And how're you going to make it spill," she giggled.

"Well," he began. "I'll try to make you laugh. If you laugh, the drink will pour all over your face. Don't worry, I have napkins."

She grinned, nodding her head. This caused the glass to tip, already making the strong liquid drip down her forehead. Kyle sighed and began to wipe it away. He was stopped. "Drink it."

He complied, leaning down to her level. He kissed her softly on her nose before working to get rid of the alcohol along her sweat drenched face. He wasn't usually one for licking bodily fluids, but he was too drunk to care. She picked up the remaining napkins, flinging them across the room. They didn't need them anymore.

When he was finished, Kyle placed the newly filled shot glass atop his tipsy girlfriend's forehead once again, advising her to be careful until they started the game. "Ready?" he smirked.

"Ready."

The redhead picked up a party blower and blew into it, which caused the end of it to brush against one of the busty blonde's breasts, tickling her. She tried to hold in her laughter as the tip reached her nipple, scratching against it. He continued doing this, moving one of his hands over to the other nipple, lightly pinching it. He got a slight jerk from Bebe. However, the drink remained in the shot glass. "Mother fucker," he whispered, catching his breath before blowing once again.

She giggled at the familiar feeling, moving her body in such a way that the glass toppled over, coating the brown couch in clear liquid. "That doesn't count!" she yelled. "You caught me off guard!"

He grinned, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. She could feel the hardness of his boxers on her crotch, suddenly noticing the wetness in her thong. "I win," he whispered against her parted mouth. "What's my prize?"

She smiled, reaching around his neck and pulling him closer. "Me."

He picked her up bridal style and carried her upstairs, not bothering to close the door behind him as nobody was present besides them. They proceeded to do not-so-innocent things for the rest of the night. Perhaps Bebe's birthday wasn't such a failure in the end. After all, Bebe may be the Goddess of Tickling, but Kyle would forever be known as the King of Spooning.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Well, that took a hot minute to write. I'm quite happy with how it turned out, and I hope you are too! Thanks again to Alloshonen for helping me with a few of the ideas. I'll be back to updating** _ **Fearless**_ **again soon, hallelujah! Thanks for reading!**


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